Leatherbound
by Solstice Muse
Summary: A smutlet for Christmas. Hermione loves the smell of leather bound books...and a leather bound Ron is pretty satisfying too.


_A/N This is one of my Twelve Smutlets of Christmas 2008 from over on the Live Journal comm, Ronsexuals. Being a Ron/Hermione and not being too smutty for this site I can share with you. It is steamy though so if you don't like the racy stuff then just click the back button. _

_Hope you all had a good Christmas!_

**Leatherbound**

Hermione loved the smell of leather.

Her library at home was wall to wall leather bound books. There was something tactile about it. The feel and the smell that came with her favourite thing, reading.

Well, her second favourite thing.

Ron was sleeping on the squishy armchair in the corner of the library, snoring softly, and she looked over the top of her book on the reformation of magical law in the seventeen hundreds and watched him dozing in peace.

Ron was a great passion of hers too but, just like her books, she couldn't articulate the sensual satisfaction that came from him bound in leather. The first time she had been bold enough to kiss him he had been strapped up in smelly groaning Quidditch leathers. When she had been bold enough to stake her claim on him in front of Lavender Brown he had just landed his broom after a successful trial for Keeper (after her knobbling his competition) it had been the sight of him working up a sweat in those well worn brown pads and rigid chest plate of tough hide.

Just watching him handling leather was something slightly erotic for her. At Christmas she had bought him a soft leather wallet to keep his Auror ID inside as well as a compartment for his wizarding money and another for Muggle. She had been explaining that there was an enchantment on the Auror ID so it would look like a Muggle one if he ever got into trouble on that side of society and her words just petered off as his fingers slid across the smooth surface and his thumb traced the seams and then circled the fastener.

She loved to instigate undressing him before they had sex too. Unbuckling his leather belt and sliding it out of the loops before the thin leather tongue gave a crack in the air as she snapped it free of the last belt loop. It turned her on inexplicably more than undressing him when he wasn't wearing a belt at all.

She once asked Ron to go down on her while wearing his Quidditch gloves. She was wet at the thought of it and slumping in her chair as she fell into the memory. Leather clad fingers pushing apart her thighs, creaking and warming against the heat from her skin.

"Do you need the toilet?" Ron's deep, sleepy voice called across the library.

"Huh?" Hermione snapped out of her trip down memory lane and forced herself to sit up in her chair, where she had been squirming cross-legged, and looked at his heavy eyelids and scrunched up nose.

"Are you all right?" Ron said before stretching and yawning.

"Fine!" She spoke with too much brightness and enthusiasm and grinned at him a little too manically.

"Well that's me convinced," Ron mumbled to himself before grunting up from the chair and scratching the back of his head. "I'm gonna make a cup of tea. Want one?"

"Yes please," Hermione nodded, willing him to leave so she could cringe herself to death.

She snapped her book closed as soon as he left the room. She hunched over and dug her elbows into her thighs before dropping her chin into the palm of both hands as they formed a 'V' shaped support. She sighed and wondered if it was odd to fantasise about her boyfriend tying his knee high flying boots tightly around his calf muscle, fingers pulling the laces taut, or the sound of discarded shin pads being thrown off and onto the floor.

Was it something she could tell him about? He always told her what turned him on. He would ravish her first thing in the morning and tell her how sexy she looked without make up and with her hair all wild. He'd rinse the suds from her hair as she wallowed in the bath and tell her she glowed when she bathed. He once got a hard on as he watched her ordering books from Flourish and Blotts and had to hide behind a potted plant _and_ a copy of the Magical English Dictionary.

The main kink of Ron's was something that delighted her. When she had to get glasses she'd been worried it would just stamp 'Bookworm' across her face and remove the last ounce of femininity she had. When Ron had see her put them on to read he'd knocked them off her face with the force of his kiss and broke one of the lenses.

He found the glasses a real turn on, which led to many jokes about why he was so close to Harry, and it delighted her. Surely Ron would be chuffed to hear that the idea of him in leather made her underwear moist in seconds...but she just couldn't tell him.

It was a leather fetish. That's a thing perverts like. He'd think she liked whips and chains and gimp masks with zippers across the mouths.

She didn't like those at all. Zippy was her least favourite character on Rainbow!

"My tight shorts cling to my pumping thighs," Ron's voice was saying from the kitchen.

"What was that?" Hermione called back through the open door.

"They want me to do an advert for the new Quidditch league, lots of famous Quidditch fans actually, and my line is 'My tight shorts cling to my pumping thighs'. What the fuck is all that about. Who wears shorts to play Quidditch? This sounds like somebody who's never watched a single match has written this."

Ron appeared back at the door, carrying two steaming hot mugs of tea and clasping a piece of parchment between his teeth. He handed Hermione her tea and then pulled the parchment free to look upon it with scorn again.

"Can you imagine the state of my thighs if I rode a broomstick in nothing but shorts?"

Hermione sputtered on her first mouthful of tea. Ron looked at her in curiosity for a moment before smirking.

"Well you're different, you have to like to see me wearing as little as possible."

Hermione stared up at him, tea dribbling down her chin, and realised that he wouldn't think the worst of her for the leather obsession.

"If your shorts were leather your thighs would be fine," she said, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

"They'd have to be knee shorts and if they were tight and leather," Ron began before pausing as he noticed something different in her expression, "I've always though leather shorts were short, really short shorts."

Hermione tried to keep her expression impassive and Ron looked away from her and back at the parchment again, apparently convinced that the reaction he thought he'd seen wasn't what he had thought it to be.

"Anyway, that'd be like playing in lederhosen and the Austrian national team don't even do that." Ron's eyes flicked up to look at her again and the corner of his mouth curled up.

"Can you imagine that, Hermione, me in lederhosen on a broom?"

Hermione swallowed and set down her tea, while clearing her throat.

"You're right, you'd need more coverage to protect your skin from splinters than that. You'd need at least knickerbockers or something."

"I will tear off my skin before I wear knickerbockers!" Ron proclaimed in outrage. "Please tell me you don't like the idea of me wearing knickerbockers."

"Of course not," Hermione said before shrugging, "trousers are what you already wear so I was looking for a middle ground. I mean if anything I think you should wear more hardwearing trousers on those brooms...like leather ones or something."

Ron's mouth curled up at the corner again.

"Oh really?"

"Denim's tough but not good in the rain an-"

Ron looked over his shoulder to his armchair, his leather armchair, and then back at her with a full smirk.

"That'd be a problem though wouldn't it?" He was pretending to be thoughtful when really he was deliberately winding her up. She knew it and she wanted to punch him in the chest for it. "Say I was riding the broom in the driving rain for a seven hour match and then came home smelling of wet leather and dropped myself down into my chair. Imagine the amount of squeaking that'd create every time I moved."

Hermione bit her lip, hard.

"And I'd be wriggling away, squeaking and groaning and creaking all the while in my noisy wet trousers, and trying to get them off but they'd be clinging on like a second skin."

"There would probably be..." Hermione had to stop to clear her rasping throat, "...some kind of...fastening incorporated for such an event. Maybe they'd lace all the way up your outside leg and you'd need to...to just..."

"Unlace all the way up my leg and peel the leather away like the skin of a banana?" Ron offered.

Hermione grabbed her tea and gulped half of it down to lubricate her impossibly dry throat.

"Something like that." Hermione gasped after swallowing.

"But what about around here?" Ron slid his hands around his hips and down over his groin and between his thighs before stroking them back again. "I'd still be trapped in them up here, just having bare legs with wet leather flapping about between them. What would I do while I waited for this part to dry out enough so I could wriggle out of them?"

Hermione jumped out of her chair and crossed the room in fewer steps than she'd ever done so before.

"You rotten tease!" She growled at him as he grinned.

She threw herself into his lap and tore his shirt open.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron said as he watched her unfastening his trousers and yanking his belt from the loops with a snap. "I'd have come to bed in nothing but protective padding if I knew."

"That," said Hermione as she lowered herself onto his hard cock, "is something you'll be doing for me for Christmas!"


End file.
